


Hey Guys, I'm A Dog!

by WordsAreMusicForTheEyes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Brief Jealousy, Cutesy, Dog Reader, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Love Confessions, Oblivious Dean Winchester, Oblivious Sam Winchester, Sammy is really damn perceptive...., Secret Crush, Spells & Enchantments, Winchester Feels, You can find out a LOT about certain handsome green eyed hunters when you're a dog..., You're a dog!, eventually...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-04-26 06:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4993618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsAreMusicForTheEyes/pseuds/WordsAreMusicForTheEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you and the Winchester brothers finally get an opportunity for 'shore leave', you decide to visit family and friends back home. Unfortunately, your plans get put on hold when a witch catches you by surprise- turning you into a fluffy, four-legged companion.</p><p>Returning to your best friends, you hope to provide clues as to your true identity so the guys can help you out of the 'canine conundrum'.</p><p>During the eventful day, however, you also learn of Dean's well-guarded secret...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Um...Woof woof?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some good old, fluffy, stupid fun I thought I'd write while finishing off the next chapter of Such A Sweet Tease (I am truly sorry for keeping you lovely folks waiting on that, things have been a little topsy-turvy) :3 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this slice of weirdness (or at the very least, don't hate it XD) :D I've read a couple of Dean/Reader fics where Dean gets turned into a dog and adorable antics ensue, but haven't so far seen any where Reader undergoes the transformation. I thought I'd put one out there, and see what you all make of it ^.^

**_Well this is just freaking brilliant_** , you thought, padding along the side of the road. The asphalt felt hot against the leathery soles of your paws-

 ** _Yeah, my PAWS! I have frigging PAWS!_**   You were mentally shrieking. The world had become a monochrome vista, full of overpowering scents and odours. There were an array of sounds in the distance you were able to detect, of frequencies higher than you'd ever heard before. The sensory overload was nearly disorientating, but you continued with your journey back to the motel; to reunite with Sam and Dean.

 ** _Not like they'll realise I'm their best friend who's been travelling with them the past year_** , you reminded yourself bitterly. **_Freaking witches_** , you cursed in your head.

Fortunately the distance between the gas station you'd stopped at and the motel wasn't especially significant. On the horizon you saw the familiar building and barely occupied parking lot, the sight urging you to launch into a four-legged sprint towards the parking lot. You slowed your gait and bounded excitedly across to the black Chevy Impala parked up in its spot. The smell of its exhaust waded into your damp nose.

Barking in celebration, you paced up and down the length of the car, hoping for Sam and Dean to take notice. When nobody stepped out of the car, heaving yourself up onto your hind legs and resting your front paws on the door of the driver's side; you soon realised the Impala was empty. Emitting a low grumble from your throat, you settled back on all fours and peered back at the motel, bracing yourself for a lengthy wait.

 

Resting on your haunches, you stared resolutely at the motel door you expected to see open soon and both Winchesters emerging from the room. You didn't move from the Impala's side, hoping that by remaining next to it, you could somehow inform them that you were-in fact- their companion.

Still waiting, you absent-mindedly swished your tail across the ground. Not entirely sure how you'd adapted to the physiology of a dog so quickly, you chose to instead be grateful for hastily picking up the skill. Aware that they would probably be a lot more sedate- sleeping in and taking their time to get ready- as they'd started their week's 'shore leave' from hunting. The brothers and yourself would, usually on a trimonthly basis, take a break from finding leads and set down the research material for a week; just simply to wind down and enjoy some peace.

As you had a week's break, you'd talked to the brothers about taking off and visiting your family and friends, who you'd not seen for some time. Packing some belongings that morning, you'd left a note just to assure Sam and Dean that you were perfectly fine and that you'd be returning at the end of the week, then set off on your journey. That decision proved to be the cause of your predicament. After stopping at a gas station to refuel your car, you'd encountered a woman who seemed particularly fascinated with you.

When she'd asked how the 'Winchester boys' would get along without their 'girlfriend' you immediately knew she was bad news. The next thing you recalled was waking up, distinctly more dog-shaped. All you could think of was returning to your friends to seek their assistance.

Your lazy ass friends, who were taking their god damn time getting ready that morning...

 

With superior hearing, you picked up on the sound of a door handle being twisted. Ears pricked forward, you sprang up onto all fours, tail swishing from side to side languidly. The door of Sam and Dean's motel room opened up; Sam's tall frame appearing first.

“...give her a call tonight or tomorrow to be sure. She'll be fine, Dean, she can look after herself,” he was speaking over his shoulder to his older brother, whilst exiting the room. Dean followed close behind, fixing the collar of his leather jacket.

“She's definitely coming back at the end of the week, right?” He asked, his expression stern.

“Yeah, that's what her note said. Plus, she made it kinda clear when she spoke to us last night. Relax, Dean, she's not run off,” Sam chuckled, shaking his head. Wagging your tail, you barked enthusiastically, catching the attention of the Winchesters. “Aw, man, check this out, Dean!” Sam grinned delightedly, hurrying toward you.

“What's that **thing** doin' near Baby?!” Dean sounded appalled. You remembered, with a sinking feeling, Dean's lack of fondness for dogs.

“A dog, Dean, not a 'thing'. Aww, looks like a Border Collie...c'mere,” Sam crouched down, holding out his hand to you.

 _ **Sam, Sam! It's me!**_   Your words came out as eager barks. Trotting forward, tail still wagging, you pushed your snout against his hand. How would you get him to realise it was you?

 

“Hey there, you're a friendly one, aren't you?” The younger Winchester smiled at you, stroking the top of your head and scratching you gently behind the ears- which felt surprisingly good. You hopped up onto your hind legs again, resting your front paws on his knees. He smelt pleasant- of soap and shampoo, gentle aromas. Sam laughed, ruffling your fur affectionately. “You're a sweet girl, huh?”

“How can you tell the mutt's a girl?” Dean inquired tersely. **_Mutt? I'm a mutt, huh, Dean? I'll be sure to remember that and kick your gorgeous ass when I'm a human again, douchebag_** , you thought testily.

“Don't call her a mutt, Dean, she's a cutie,” Sam said protectively, cuddling you, “And how the hell do you think I figured out she's a girl?”

“You mean you checked down-” Dean appeared disturbed. You made a small, grumbling sound of disapproval. **_Well, so much for privacy_** , you found yourself thinking.

“Dean,” Sam sighed explosively.

“Dude, c'mon, why?!” The older Winchester groaned.

“Shut up. I can't keep calling her 'it', can I? That's rude!” Sam was indignant. ** _Aww, Sammy, you're so adorable sometimes_** , you thought bemusedly. Dropping down from Sam's knees, you lay down on the warm ground and rolled onto your back, baring your stomach. All the while, your tail was swishing back and forth furiously.

 

“Hey, Sammy, this is the fastest you've ever got a woman on her back,” Dean sniggered. His younger brother muttered something very short, sharp and impolite under his breath, and began rubbing your belly. **_Damn, I can see why dogs like this, it's like a frickin' massage_** , you contemplated.

“She's so affectionate, Dean! D'you think she's got a family?”

“I dunno, but if you're hopin' she's a stray, we are _**not**_   taking her in,” Dean said.

“Oh, Dean, c'mon, look at her!” Sam shifted to the side to let Dean get a look at you; paws in the air, tail sweeping across the ground, your tongue lolling out as Sam rubbed your stomach.

“Yeah, I'm lookin' at her, she's a **_dog_**. We're not getting a dog!”

“Can we at least keep her for a bit? Just until we find her family? Or a new place to live?” Sam implored.

“No, Sammy!” Dean said firmly.

“Please, Dean. Look at her, look!” Sam picked you up gently, rose to his feet and held you at face-level with Dean. “Give him puppy eyes, girl, work your magic.” Sam whispered into your pointed ear. Understanding him clearly, you tilted your head to one side, widening your eyes dolefully and began whining softly. **_That should break him down_** , you thought with triumphant satisfaction.

 

“Nuh uh, not gonna work,” Dean insisted, folding his arms. You whined pitifully, throwing in the tiniest whimper, reaching out with a paw.

“How could you possibly say 'no' to this face, Dean?” Sam held you closer to him, determined to find a crack in Dean's resolve. You whimpered more audibly, lowering your snout so Dean was hit full-blast with the power of 'puppy eyes'. He pressed his lips together in a line, and glanced to the side, grumbling.

“Fine! Fine, we can take her,” he agreed reluctantly. “Friggin' puppy eyes, my ass.” He mumbled darkly, unlocking the Impala and throwing open the driver's door.

“Good job, girl,” Sam praised you quietly.

“ ** _She_**   goes in the back. And if she makes a mess on the seat, it's **_your_**   ass on the line, Sammy,” Dean warned his brother.

“Sure thing, Dean,” Sam smirked. “Don't worry, sweetie, he wouldn't do anything to me. I'll just work my puppy eyes on him, too. He's a total sap for 'em.” He whispered to you. In an attempt at laughing, you emitted a strange, panting wheeze, mouth opened in the semblance of a 'dog smile'.

“I heard that, jackass,” Dean snapped at his brother. The younger Winchester merely chuckled, placing you in the back seat of the Impala.

 

While frustrated that the brothers still remained blissfully unaware of your canine-conundrum, you made the best of a problematic situation. You decided you'd just have to drop hints toward your true identity and hope they'd catch on. If nothing else, they'd probably call you at some point to check up on you and end up going through to your voice mail; that would set their alarm bells ringing. For the time being however, you lay across the leather seats of the Impala, resting your head on your outstretched paws, as Dean drove you all to the nearest diner for breakfast.

 ** _Well, not me. I'll be made to stay outside and wait for them_** , you remembered, disheartened. Dean and Sam were having fairly laid-back conversation, evidently in the spirit of their shore leave. You peered around at the world with its now varying shades of grey, and picked up on the range of scents surrounding you. Sam's gentle aroma, Dean's spicier musk; combined with his deodorant, leather and that vague undertone of engine oil, and the other smells in the Impala; the leather upholstery and the cleaning wipes and conditioner with Dean would lovingly use to maintain 'Baby's' seats. It was bizarre to have such a powerful sense of smell and incredibly acute hearing- it was literally nothing you'd ever experienced before.

“Hey, Sammy, you tried calling [Y/N] to see if she's doin' okay?” Dean asked. Your ears pricked up at the sound of your name.

“No, figure she'd still be travelling. I'll call her tonight or something, give her chance to settle in and have time with her family,” Sam replied casually.

“Maybe we should call her, y'know, be totally sure she's good? She's not even sent a text or anything?”

“Dean, give the woman some time, for Christ's sake, it's barely been a couple of hours. She's not gonna be targeted by every demon, creature and spirit still out there just because she's going back home for a week,” Sam told his brother. “We can't be on [Y/N]'s back all the time.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just...gotta keep an eye out for each other, right?” Dean responded distractedly, hands shifting around on the steering wheel as he peered out of the window for a moment.

 

After a short silence, you heard the familiar guitar intro of 'Enter Sandman' playing quietly. Springing up to your feet, you began barking, wagging your tail and pacing the length of the back seat.

“Hey girl, what's up?” Sam swivelled around to look at you.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, she better not be about to lose her shit over somethin',” Dean said apprehensively.

“No, she's happy about something. Hang on, lemme see if this-” Sam didn't finish his sentence, instead reaching forward to turn the volume up on the song, Metallica now filling the car with its awesome sound. You barked enthusiastically, tail high in the air.

“Huh, so she's a Metallica gal? Okay, I gotta admit, that's pretty cute,” Dean conceded, nodding approvingly at you in the rear view mirror.

“Funny, this is the song [Y/N] always goes crazy over, isn't it?” Sam chuckled.

“Yeah, it is,” Dean confirmed, smiling almost serenely to himself.

 ** _That's because this is me!_**   You felt like shrieking aloud. Instead, you had to continue demonstrating your genuine fondness for the song through dog-behaviour. On the guitar solo, you attempted to howl along in tune- in place of the imitation you would often do- and drew forth laughter from both Sam **and** Dean.

“Nice try, girl,” Sam turned around to scratch you behind the ear, a dimpled grin stretched across his face.

“Not sure if I prefer her howling or [Y/N]'s air guitar?” Dean remarked with a chuckle. “Think I'm gonna go with your howling, little lady.” He spoke to you directly.

 ** _Oh, is that right, Winchester? When I'm human again- my foot, your ass, the two should meet up some time_** , you thought with mirthful annoyance. To exact your 'revenge' you went onto your back paws, leaned over the front seats, and dragged your tongue across Dean's cheek.

“Ughh! Aw, man!” He whined, greeting the action with a mixture of revulsion and amusement. You made a low, throaty noise, and then nuzzled into the crook of his neck affectionately, your tail swishing happily. You breathed in Dean's familiar scent of leather, engine oil and that unique musk of his.

“Aww, Dean, she likes you,” Sam taunted his older brother.

“Yeah, ha ha- zip it, Sammy!” Dean grumbled, who reached back to pat the side of your head gently. It appeared that you were already breaking through his mistrusting veneer and winning him over.

 

As Dean slowed to a stop, you could hear the satisfyingly low, rattling grumble of the engine. Parking the car, he then switched off the ignition.

“C'mon, Sammy, breakfast,” Dean whooped, tapping a merry beat on the steering wheel of his precious Baby. The two brothers stepped out of the car, closing their doors in perfect synchrony. You barked eagerly, pawing at the handle of your door. Sam sweetly obliged, opening it so you could leap out and pad across onto the street side walk . From what you could tell, Dean had driven you all to a small town, in close proximity to the motel, comprised almost solely from cafes and quaint, family-owned stores. There didn't appear to be too many townsfolk wandering the streets, so it was peacefully quiet.

Sam and Dean walked ahead in large strides on their long, **_human_**   legs. You had to trot along the side walk to keep pace with them, staying close on their heels.

 ** _Christ, guys, slow down_** , you grumbled internally. In your canine form, you let out an irritated huff. The guys came to a halt, glancing in interest at a particular cafe.

“Looks decent enough. Wanna go in this one, Dean?” Sam suggested.

“If they do bacon and pie, I'm happy,” his brother pointed out.

“'Course you are,” Sam let out an abrupt chuckle, pushing the door open, triggering the soft ring of a bell. You darted forward past the young Winchester, pelting into the cafe, barking cheerfully.

 

“Whoa!” Sam called out, as you bounded over to a table surrounded by three seats and leapt up onto the chair. The handful of customers already in the cafe looked up, slightly alarmed by the sight of a dog sprinting in and jumping onto a seat. You looked across the Winchesters, tail wagging. A glorious plethora of scents struck you; coffee, toasted sandwiches, pancakes, waffles and bacon.

“Ah-ah! No, girl, you can't come in here, you gotta go outside!” Sam chided you.

 ** _Hey, what? I'm not sitting outside. What am I? A do- ah shit_** , you sighed. In response, you ceased wagging your tail, and your ears drooped.

“C'mon, little lady, you can't be in here. No dogs allowed,” Dean walked forward and tapped your back, signalling for you to get down from the chair. You whimpered.

“Down, girl,” Sam commanded sternly, standing beside his brother and folding his arms across his chest. Hanging your head, you made your whines louder, looking up at them dolefully.

 ** _Guys, don't do this!_**   You found yourself pleading on the inside. Dean gave a grating sigh, then reached out to hoist you up into his arms. _**Well I'm hardly gonna complain about you holding me**_ , you wanted to say to him, tail sweeping side to side and ears pricking up.

That was until he began carrying you out of the cafe. Still in his arms, you started squirming and letting out a miserable howl, paws scrabbling against his leather jacket.

“Don't make a scene, for Christ's sake,” he grumbled at you resentfully.

 

“Oh, hey, you don't need to put her outside. She can stay in as long as she doesn't make a mess,” a woman's voice said gently. Dean spun around, still stowing you in his arms. The woman looked to be the owner of the cafe, with a small apron tied around her waist and laden with a couple of orders to hand out to her customers.

“Um, are you sure?” Sam asked doubtfully.

“'Course, sweetie. Folks here are pretty relaxed. Besides, she seems determined to stay with you boys,” the cafe owner smiled.

“Oh, well...thank you,” Sam said, still mildly surprised at the laid back attitude of the owner, settling down in a chair. “Guess you can put her down, Dean?”

“Really?” Dean hardly believed it himself.

“Yeah, go ahead. Wouldn't want her getting upset, now, would we?” The cafe owner made a point of addressing you. You wagged your tail again, and proceeded to lick Dean's cheek, uninhibited in showing him affection in your dog form.

Dean grimaced, turning his face away and groaning in annoyance. “Not again,” he muttered. Sam laughed at his brother's repeated misfortune.

“She's fond of you, huh?” The owner chuckled, handing over the plates to some customers; an elderly couple.

 ** _Damn straight, I'm crazy about this jackass_** , you thought.

 

Pacing excitedly around the two brothers as they ate their breakfast, you found yourself becoming increasingly eager to hint towards your true identity. You started weaving between the legs of their chairs, **their** legs, your swishing tail slapping them lightly on their denim covered calves.

“Someone's a little hyper,” Sam remarked bemusedly. You let out a short bark from under the table.

“You might think it's cute, Sammy, I'm gettin' tail whipped every other minute,” Dean said begrudgingly.

“She's just friendly, Dean,” his younger brother reminded him.

 ** _Yeah, but I'm also your best friend, idiots!_**   You felt like snapping at them.

Whisking out from beneath the table, you sat back on your haunches beside Dean, staring up at him. It was a few mouthfuls of pie before he realised you were watching him.

“What? What d'you want?” He asked. You cocked your head to one side. “That's your answer?” Dean looked exasperated.

You settled your front paws on his thigh, rested your head on his leg and gave him an adoring look.

 ** _Wait...why am I doing this? I can't stop myself_** , you panicked. Was the 'dog' beginning to take over?

“What's that look for, little lady?” Dean frowned, not in frustration, but amusement. You made your feelings known with a low, throaty whine, stretching a paw up to gently touch his jaw. If that didn't butter up the demon hunter, he would have had to have been heartless.

As it was, he grinned, and petted you affectionately.

 

Sam and Dean remained in the cafe, just talking for a while after finishing their food, making the most of their hunting-holiday. As it proved to be a seemingly impossible task to show the brothers who you were, you decided to make another attempt later in the day, settling on lying on the floor beside Dean- head rested on your paws, ears twisting and turning as you took in snippets of conversations.

“Y'know, it's weird. You're not exactly a dog person, but she seems really taken with you, Dean,” Sam observed, tilting his head to one side as he looked down at you. At the mention of you current physical state, you lifted your head and peered up at him thoughtfully. Seeing Sam's kind face, and not being able to smile back at him, you had to make do with swishing your tail contentedly.

“I have a way with the ladies, Sammy,” Dean joked, distractedly.

“Checking your phone **_again_** ?” Sam chuckled.

“What?” Dean asked, having not been paying attention.

“She's **_fine_** , Dean,” Sam said quietly, yet pointedly.

“What are you talkin' about?” His older brother sounded affronted.

“Nothing. Never mind,” Sam sighed tiredly. The cafe door's bell let out its tinkling trill again, as two young women entered, one of them talking in a voice that grated horribly on your nerves. That very woman quickly scoured the cafe, immediately pinning her sights on Dean.

 

While her companion comfortable at a table- hooking her shoulder bag onto the corner of her chair and absent-mindedly fixing her fringe- the woman wandered over to you all. There was a confident, 'sexy' smile plastered on her face as she ran her hand through her hair, tousling it carelessly.

“Oh my gosh, your dog is so cute!” She said, in that voice; so reminiscent of nails scraping down a chalkboard. The annoying woman had the audacity to kneel down and start ruffling the fur on the top of your head.

“Thanks,” Sam said rather casually, aware that she was only there for Dean and not remotely interested in 'their dog'. A pungent smell of hairspray, make-up and cheap perfume waded into your sensitive nose, which for no apparent reason, made your animosty towards her more intense.

“What's his name?” She asked. **_Bitch, what did you just say?_**   You began growling deep in your throat.

“Actually, it's a 'her ',” Dean corrected her. **_Wow, Dean, you're not seizing up this opportunity to flirt this pretty chick's undies off? Are you ill?_**   You were internally taken aback. “We don't know her name. We picked up her earlier, she might be a stray.”

“Oh wow, you're so sweet, picking up this little cutie!” She praised him sickeningly. You spotted her dining companion watching her friend's attempts at picking Dean up, and rolling her eyes.

You began growling louder, ears pinned back. 

“Well, she and my brother were givin' me puppy eyes, so I couldn't say no,” Dean chortled.

“That's adorable! So, can I ask what **_your_**   name is, huh?” The bimbo asked in a flirty, breathy tone, still patting you uncomfortably. You started snarling, baring your sharp, canine teeth, hackles raised. The woman, realising her petting and presence wasn't welcomed by you, drew her hand back, looking fearful and apprehensive. _**Totally not getting jealous or possessive at all. Totally not,**_ you tried kidding yourself before promptly declaring it was 'bullshit'.

 

“I don't think she likes you,” Sam remarked in a dry mutter.

“Aww, why don't you like me, huh, cutie?” She persisted. This time, you sprang up on all fours, body rigid and began barking at her threateningly.

“Whoa, easy, sweetheart,” Dean leaned forward and began running his hand over your back soothingly. Desisting your warning barks, you continued growling at the woman until she backed away.

“Huh...uh...she really doesn't like me. Can I still get your name, handsome?”

“I don't think it's in the cards today, sweet cheeks. I'm not really interested,” Dean brushed her off, sliding his arms under your belly and hoisting you up onto his lap. You turned into an affectionate ball of fur, curling up and wagging your tail delightedly while licking at his chin.

“Seriously? Are you, what, picking that dog over me?” The bimbo huffed, hands on her hips.

“Uhhhh...I'm gonna go with **_yep_** ,” Dean told her crisply. Sam raised his eyebrows, surprised by his brother's behaviour.

“God, fine, whatever!” The bimbo scoffed, sitting at the table her reproachful friend had been waiting at for a few minutes.

“Hey, Sammy, she likes her belly rubbed, doesn't she?” Dean asked, as if that debacle never happened.

“Er...yeah, she does,” Sam faltered for a moment.

“Well, how's about a belly rub for this lady?” Dean immediately began ruffling the fur on your stomach, fingers tickling you pleasantly. “Ohhh, who's a sap for a belly rub, huh? Like that, girl? Awww, you do!”

 ** _Hells yeah, keep it coming, Dean-o!_** You made a funny noise in your throat, tail wagging so furiously, it kept slapping Dean's leather jacket loudly. **_Score one for doggy-me! Whoo!_**

 **Oh yeah** , you remembered grimly, **_I'm still a frigging dog_** ....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any good? Your thoughts are-as always- very welcome, my groovy beans! :D


	2. Doing It Doggy Style...Oh Wait, No, That's Not What I Meant...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ba-boom! Second chapter is here, you groovy beans!
> 
> Firstly, I just want to say how astonished I am at the positive response to this fic, and your lovely feedback. I honestly thought this would be a bit of a 'flop', for lack of a better word. So the fact that you folks have taken to it....well, I don't even know what to say, other than 'Thank you so much!' :')
> 
> So, fabulous people, I hope you like this chapter- it contains some 'feels', a teeny bit of angst, some fluffy goodness, a little 'hint' towards a certain hunter's feelings and, of course, my immature sense of humour :D
> 
> Enjoy! XD

After a laid back breakfast, the brothers decided to go for a walk through the nearby park. It wasn't often they got to enjoy some down time, with most of their ventures consisting mainly of gathering information or evidence on cases they took on. To be able to do 'normal things' that a 'civilian' would do on their holiday was something both Winchesters relished. Chattering amongst themselves as they strolled down a wide path, shadowed slightly by the canopy of treetops, you padded along behind them. Though it was a crisp autumn's day, sunlight dappled the trees; giving the illusion of warmth. Fallen, curled leaves drifted sedately across the path each time a gentle gust of wind caught them.

You came to a halt, and settled on your haunches, peering up at the treetops; the branches swaying lazily above you. Even with your monochrome vision, you could still recall colour in your 'human mind'. With enough focus, you could picture the myriad of golds, yellows, oranges, reds and pale browns; the beautiful autumnal colours that had always captivated you.

"Hey, girl, you okay?" You heard Sam's voice call to you gently. He and Dean had walked a few paces ahead before realising you'd been distracted. The two of them were looking at you, their expressions curious.

Giving a small bark, you pricked your ears forward and swept your tail from side to side. Sam's mouth turned up into a fond smile.

"What are you looking at, huh?" He came over to you, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. With another bark, you lifted your head and returned your gaze to the leaves fluttering on their branches. Sam's hand stroked the top of your head gently. "Funny, I've never heard of a dog appreciating nature. You must be one special lady." He chuckled kindly.

 _ **Pfft, like I didn't already know that,**_ you wanted to jokingly send yourself up. 

 

"What's goin' on with her, Sammy?" Dean inquired, though there was no sharpness to his tone.

"She was looking at the trees, Dean," Sam explained, ruffling your fur affectionately. You gave him a significant look.

"What?" Dean frowned, clearly puzzled.

"She was looking at the-" Sam was about to repeat, but Dean interrupted him.

"Nah, I heard you. Just...why would a dog do that?"

_**Umm, maybe because I'm not a dog?** _

"Dunno, to be honest. Seemed odd to me too," Sam shrugged.

"Huh. We've found the dog version of [Y/N], Sammy," Dean grinned, half to himself.

 _ **Seriously? Are you kidding me?**_   You could have sworn you let out a dog's equivalent of a sigh.

"'Cause she likes autumn scenery and Metallica?" Sam snorted.

"Yeah!" Dean replied enthusiastically.

"Man, it's not even been half a day and you're already missing her, aren't you?" Sam shook his head, all smiles, obviously reading something deeper into his brother's words. Dean's own smile faded, his expression of delight replaced by vexation.

"Don't go all 'chick flick' on me, little brother, I don't get sappy like you do," he brushed his younger brother off, before turning on his heel and hurrying on ahead.

 _ **Huh, that's strange. Wonder what's going on with him,**_ you speculated. In the midst of thought, Sam patted you encouragingly.

"Ah, c'mon, girl. Let's catch up with him," he said, urging you to move.

 

Surely enough, as soon as you both caught up with Dean, he was snapping his phone shut and shoving it back into his jacket pocket. Sam chose not to make any comment, choosing to remain tactfully quiet. Continuing along the path, you emerged from the canopy of trees into a huge, trimmed sea of grass; filled with carefully arranged shrubbery and flowers, benches and play areas for young children. Being a weekday, the place was fairly quiet, with just a few joggers, dog-walkers and couples wandering past. Sam and Dean settled down on a bench, engrossed once more in conversation. You lay on the ground, your back facing Dean's legs as your paws were stretched out to the side. Your head, while raised, was resting against the older Winchester brother's shin.

As a dog, it seemed far easier to be this relaxed with Dean, whereas while human; being so close to him was a daunting thought. You'd hugged him on numerous occasions- and he'd never once pushed you away- but resting your head on his shoulder or snuggling up next to him was something you didn't dare attempted, in case it over-stepped some sort of boundary. If he was to even politely ask you not to do something like that, it would have felt like a huge rejection.

At least as a four-legged companion, you didn't have to worry about social boundaries quite so much.

 

"Hey, Dean?" Sam drew his brother's attention after a few short moments of silence.

"Yeah?"

"Are we ever gonna get regular jobs and earn money for ourselves? I feel kinda weird using those credit cards," Sam pressed his lips together.

"What? Why? It's like having bottomless sources of funding," Dean said, aghast.

"I just want to spend money that I've made the _**legal**_ way, y'know," the younger Winchester sighed.

"Huh...oh, I know, we could sell pot to college kids?" Dean suggested plainly.

" _ **Legal**_ , Dean, _**legal**_ ," Sam reminded him.

"Fine, fine, I'll think of somethin' else! Oo, how about prostitution?"

"Um, _**no**_. First off, prostitution is still technically illegal. Secondly, no way am I becoming a hooker, Dean," Sam replied tersely.

"It could work, though. You and me could turn tricks, and [Y/N] could be our pimp who treats us right," Dean enthused. You let out a snorting huff from where you were laid out across the ground.

"I don't wanna be a prostitute, Dean!" Sam insisted; his timing both poor and comedic as two young women walked past, clearly trying not to giggle at Sam's outburst.

"Jeez, you're a picky little princess, Sam. Fine, I'll whore myself out. Or maybe we could be strippers? You don't have to screw anyone, you just get paid for flashing horny women your d-"

" _ **Regular jobs, Dean**_!" 

"Sammy, look, people like us don't get regular jobs. For starters, we don't stay anywhere long enough to do that. Second, who'd hire us? Well, maybe you, Stanford boy- but me? What the hell could I do?" Dean said, his manner no longer jovial and joking, but laden with genuine uncertainty.

 

"Dean, you could do loads. You could be a mechanic, you fixed up the Impala after that truck hit us- I mean, I saw how busted up the frame work was, and you got her looking almost brand new!" Sam said supportively.

"Sammy, you're gonna make me tear up over here," Dean joked, which elicited a slightly exasperated groan from his brother, "Yeah, I fixed up Baby good. Sure, I could be a mechanic _**just like Dad**_ , right? Won't change who I am, what I'm meant to be doing with my life."

"You're not obligated to be a hunter for the rest of your days," Sam said plaintively.

"I made a promise. This is how it's meant to be," Dean let out a melancholic sigh, shoving his hands into his pockets and slumping on the bench.

"Dean..."

"S'okay, Sammy. Besides, can you really picture me holding down a nine to five job, going back to a house with a picket fence and payin' bills?" He chuckled, snorting at his self-deprecating comment.

"I don't know, but I wish you could have that life. Something simple and safe," Sam smiled wanly at his brother. Dean looked at him with profundity, returning his brother's timid smile, before staring off into the distance.

 

"Y'know, I'm sure if [Y/N] was here, she'd come up with some cutesy job ideas," he pointed out.

"Right?"

"Yeah, like, between cases, she's probably suggest we bake and sell cookies or somethin'. Or work at some arts and crafts camp for kids. Hell, maybe even become dog-walkers," Dean let out a huff of laughter.

"Sure, because I can totally see you being a professional dog walker," Sam remarked sarcastically, ironic smile in place.

"Hey, what d'you mean by that? I've been doing a great job with this little lady," Dean reached down to pat you fondly.

 _ **Because I'm not actually a dog, you adorable dumbass,**_ you thought dryly.

"She's been following us around for the morning, not once have you 'walked her'. Plus, you've not had to tolerate her sniffing each and every fire hydrant she passes, or cleaning up her poop-" Sam brought his brother back down to reality.

 _ **Eww, gross, Sam,**_ you grumbled low in your throat, casting a reproachful gaze at the younger Winchester.

"She's not impressed, Sammy," Dean teasingly chided his brother, "C'mon. Let's head back to the motel. This scenery's starting to lose its charm."

* * *

Arriving back at the motel, you trotted off in the direction of their room, pacing back and forth in front of the door. Dean slipped the key into the lock, twisting it until there was a satisfying click.

"I don't know if you're allowed in here, but I don't think anyone's gonna say anythin' if you just keep it quiet," he said to you.

 _ **Oh no, well there go my plans for howling at the moon tonight. Dang!**_ You thought sardonically.

"And please, don't shit or pee on the carpet," Dean implored, opening the door. You pattered into the motel room, casting Dean a withering look; as withering a look as you could summon in your dog form, that is. Sam made his way toward the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Pulling off his jacket and hanging it up, Dean glanced out of the corner of his eye before gathering up the note you'd left on the end-table; your note explaining to them that you'd set off for your week-long visit back home. Pausing and watching the hunter in intrigue, you suspected he was simply re-reading it to confirm the details of your trip before discarding it.

Much to your surprise, he was just re-reading for what seemed like a few minutes, staring at the paper; his eyes sweeping across the page, lingering on certain lines or words. There was a vague hint of a smile on his lips.

 _ **Huh, interesting. Never took Dean for the sentimental sort,**_ you pondered, tilting your head to one side as you observed the older Winchester.

There was a flush from the bathroom, alarming Dean- who looked up from your note frantically and stared at the bathroom door. You walked over to Dean, paws padding across carpet.

 "It's, er, a note from [Y/N], a close friend of ours. Travels with us usually. She left this morning to go visit her family and friends back home. Just, um, just checking it was only a week she's gone for," Dean, giving the impression of a child caught in the act of stealing sweets, explained bashfully to you.

 _ **Awww, Dean-o, you miss me, you miss me!**_ You sang inside your head. _**When I'm human again, I'm so gonna use this against you, ya big sap!**_ You butted your head against his leg affectionately, looking up at him with an amiable lolling of your tongue. Dean, now smirking, reached down to stroke the side of your face and tickle you behind an ear. In the very second that Sam opened the bathroom door, however, and began to emerge, Dean scrambled around slapping your note back on its original resting place on the end-table.

 _ **Well you're just full of surprises, aren't you?**_ You felt yourself sigh at Dean's bizarre behaviour internally. Sam paid no heed to his brother's swift action, instead plopping down on his bed.

 

"Hey, ah, Sammy, you heard anything from [Y/N] yet?"

"Well, between peeing and just sitting down, I haven't had chance to check," Sam replied, offering his daily dose of 'sass', whilst he rummaged around in his pocket for his phone. "Nope. Nothing." He told his brother.

"Should we, y'know, ring her? It's weird we haven't heard from her yet," Dean cleared his throat, trying to make the suggestion casual; almost 'off-hand'.

"Dean, if you're so desperate to call her, be my guest. Chances are she's preoccupied at the moment, so she won't be able to answer anyway," Sam, never one to suffer fools gladly, intoned.

"Wha- I'm not desperate to call her...what? Watcha talkin' about, Sammy? Just...thought we'd make sure she's okay, is all, this isn't about me," Dean scoffed and snorted, his voice raised in pitch ever so slightly. Sam glanced up from his phone's screen to cast a knowing look at his brother.

"If you say so," he merely said in response.

"What are you givin' me that look for, Sasquatch?" Dean huffed, positively affronted.

"Nothing," Sam smiled, a glint in his eyes.

"That's a load of crap, Sammy, there's obviously something you think is going on when-when there's nothing going on," Dean persisted lamely.

"Look, Dean, I get it. This is the first time in a while that [Y/N]'s not been with us. It's gotta be unsettling for you. I'm finding kinda strange myself, but seeing as you're so close to her, it's probably hitting you pretty hard," Sam explained. Dean gaped for a moment, before pursing his lips and pouting, brows furrowed. It took him some time to string together a few words in reply.

 "I- that's stupid, I'm not-"

"Just admit it, Dean, you miss her. I miss her, too. See? It's not that difficult to acknowledge, it's just natural," Sam said, with a nonchalant shrug.

"Fine, I miss her! Happy now?" Dean stomped off in the direction of the kitchenette.

 _ **Knew it,**_ you thought triumphantly.

"Yep. Feeling kinda smug, too," Sam said, with a sly grin. Dean feigned laughter, sneering petulantly at his younger brother.

"Yeah, whatever, bite me, you douchebag," he grumbled, earning a snorting chuckle from Sam. Perching yourself down next your seat at the small, circular dining table- which was more or less directly in front of the kitchenette- you couldn't help but notice a pained expression on Dean's face as he plucked a beer from the small fridge.

 

"So, anything you have in mind for our first day off?" Sam inquired.

"Nope. I've got nothing. I don't really feel like headin' out anywhere, as such. I'm good to stay in the room," Dean answered, breaking the cap of his beer bottle and disposing of it.

"You want to stay in the motel all day and do what? Watch TV?" Sam asked, incredulous, his eyebrows rising up his forehead. "C'mon, Dean, you don't wanna do that, do you?"

"I'm not bothered, Sammy," he sat in his usual seat at the table.

"I don't get it. _**You**_ were the one desperate for this shore leave, said we could 'do all kinds of stuff'. Now the best you can think of is sitting around in a motel room doing sweet FA?"

"I'm just not in the mood to go out, Sam! Christ, get off my back," Dean said impatiently.

"What's wrong, Dean? Tell me, please," Sam cast his phone aside, and sat straight.

" _ **Nothing**_. It's like having the frickin' Gestapo on my case," he muttered begrudgingly.

"I'm your brother, Dean, if something is eating at you- just tell me!"

"There is _**nothing**_ going on! Nothing, Sam!" Dean raised his voice. Afraid of witnessing an argument and being helpless to dispel the tension, you began whining and barking, dashing toward the kitchenette counter and pawing at the cupboard- in the pretence of needing food. The tips of your claws scraped against the cupboard doors. Setting down his beer, Dean tried to decipher your behaviour.

 

"I think- she's hungry?"

"We don't have anything to give her," Sam muttered.

"Can we improvise with something else?" Dean suggested, opening up the cupboard to reveal the couple of cereal boxes you'd purchased during a supplies run. Feeling a small pang in your stomach, you began to feel genuinely peckish, and practically dove into the cupboard. You clamped your teeth around a box of Cheerios and dragged them out.

"Oh, uh-uh, no, girl! That's [Y/N]'s cereal, put that back," Dean told you firmly.

 _ **Yes , it's my cereal, I want to eat it,**_ you huffed at him.

"Can you even give a dog cereal?" Sam speculated.

"I don't know, but one thing's for sure- she's not eating [Y/N]'s cereal. Put it back, little lady," Dean tried commanding you again. Clutching the box in your mouth, your canine teeth beginning to puncture the packaging, you growled in resistance.

_**No, it's my cereal!** _

"Girl, put the Cheerios back," Dean pointed a finger at you, stern authority in his tone. You tried slowly inching back, determinedly hanging onto the cereal, continuing to growl.

"Dean, just let her have the cereal. I don't think [Y/N]'s gonna care," Sam sighed.

"It's a matter of principle, Sammy! Little lady, you give me back that cereal box or you're getting put outside for being a bad girl," Dean warned you.

_**Dude, did you just call me a 'bad girl'? I will never fail to remind you of that once I'm back to normal!** _

 

"Fine, you want to do this the difficult way?" Dean knelt down and seized hold of the other end of the cereal box. He started to tug it from the solid grip of your jaws. "Drop the box! Drop the box, girl!"

"Oh my God, this isn't seriously happening," Sam groaned tiredly. You snarled, ensuring your stance gave you maximum stability as you tugged on the box, your pointed ears pinned back.

"C'mon! Don't be like this, girl! I started to like you!" Dean attempted to reason with you.

_**I want my dang Cheerios, you quac**_ _**k!** _

"Drop the cereal," Dean repeated in a steely voice. You bit down harder on the box, the low growl in your throat resonating impressively. " _ **Will you just drop the box, damn it?!**_ " Dean snapped. All of a sudden, you released your end of the cereal box- sending it pivoting backward to smack Dean directly in the nose. He let out a sharp yelp of discomfort. Sam, on the other hand, had fallen into a heap on his bed, laughing hysterically. You let your tongue loll out, before flipping onto your back and staring at Dean from your upside-down point of view. 

"You little- ah! I just got punked by a friggin' dog! _**Quit laughing, Sammy**_!"

"You- you just- she let the box go and it- smacked you right in the face!" Sam hooted jubilantly.

"I'm not gonna forget that, little lady," Dean scowled at you. You made a throaty sound and lifted your paws into the air, inviting Dean to pet your exposed belly. Dean's resolve and scowl faded, and he gave you a reluctant, crooked smile. "Ah, it's a good thing you're cute." He mumbled.

_**Yeah. I have too many redeeming qualities for you to hate me, Dean-o. Now rub my belly!** _

 


	3. Puppy Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, lovely folks! I'm sorry this chapter took so long to get up- but at last, I've completed it! *punches fists into air triumphantly* :D
> 
> I'm keeping my fingers (and my toes, too, why not?) crossed that you like this update. I know it's a little on the short side, so please excuse that, I've just been finding it easier to post shorter chapters as it keeps the writing 'fresh' and doesn't keep you all waiting a millennia for the next update X)
> 
> Enjoy! <3

Not only had Dean been practically coerced into _**pouring a bowl of cereal for you**_ , but you'd very ostentatiously taken your seat at the table and flashed him a remarkably haughty look; expecting your cereal to be placed in front of you.

"You're kiddin', right?" He stared at you in utter disbelief.

 _**Does this look like my joking face, Winchester** _ _**?** _

"Look, I've just poured you a damn bowl o' cereal _**with milk**_...and now you expect to eat at the frickin' table?" Dean looked incensed.

"Dean, I don't know how to break it to you, but you got pranked by her during the little 'tug-of-war' session. I think we both know who's in charge here," Sam smirked.

"Shuddit, smart-ass," Dean wagged a finger at his younger brother, before pointing it at you, "And **you** -are eating on the floor. Dogs can't eat at the table, it's unhygienic-"

"Says the guy who leaves his food to grow undiscovered variations of mould," Sam muttered darkly.

"Hey!"

"It's digusting! Here's a tip: throw your uneaten food away, Alexander Fleming, that half-finished enchilada is not a petri dish," the younger Winchester remarked laconically. You made a curious huffing sound, mouth hanging open for your tongue to loll out. "Ha ha, she's laughing at you, Dean!" Sam added with a jubilant snort.

"Shuddup, the pair o' you," Dean grumbled, setting down your bowl of cereal on the table aggressively, before taking his seat. Pushing your snout into the bowl, you lapped up the Cheerios and milk, crunching enthusiastically. Neither brother spoke for a short while; though eventually, it was Dean who broke the silence with a small, sheepish question- "Who's Alexander Fleming?"

 

Lifting your face from the bowl, you peered across at Sam, ears pricking forward. The younger Winchester's expression was not one of derision or chagrin- as you'd half expected- but of mild disheartenment.

"Unintentionally created penicillin? Ring any bells?" Sam furrowed his brow, head cocked to one side. Dean showed no sign of recognition.

"School was never really my thing, Sammy," he explained dolefully.

"I...sorry, Dean," Sam apologised, quickly acknowledging his 'error'. Dean suddenly scoffed and shrugged the whole moment off.

"Ah, who cares? S'okay, little bro, I'm a free spirit!" He waved his hand dismissively. Reaching across awkwardly with your canine limbs, you gently rested your front paw on Dean's arm, tilting your head to the side. "Oh man, don't you go all sappy on me, too."

 _ **Buddy, you're just a walking mass of insecurity, sensitivity and self-esteem issues. You need the love,**_ you thought, all while sighing audibly.

"You're givin' me the same look [Y/N] gives me....how the hell is that even possible? You're a dog! Sammy, of all the frickin' strays you could pick up-"

"-And if you look closely enough, you can see the slight exasperation in her expression, which does indeed bear a startling resemblance to [Y/N]'s idiosyncratic 'looks'," Sam jokingly pointed out, as though drawing attention to some fine detail in an academic study, before chortling. Lolling your tongue and swishing your tail, you gave an enthusiastic bark.

"Sammy, I love you, but that ain't gonna stop me from drop kickin' you," Dean grumbled irascibly, only inspiring more laughter from his younger brother. Standing on your chair, you spun around excitedly, tail wagging; giving one more bark and leaping down from the seat. "Oh, great, s'pose I'm gonna have to clean up your bowl, now?"

 _ **Excellent deduction, Sherlock. You do have the advantage of owning opposable thumbs,**_ you wanted desperately to retort, and instead, settled to throw back a weary look at the hunter.

 

Wandering across the motel room, you noticed Sam's bed was still unmade, and Dean's clothing was discarded on the couch. As a human, you had a tendency to tidy up your surroundings compulsively; this habit was a source of humour and playful ribbing from both Winchesters. It appeared the urge was not lost upon you, even as a dog. Huffing irritatedly, you stretched your neck up, opened your mouth and clamped Sam's quilt between your teeth. In a rather ungainly fashion, you began pulling up the crumpled quilt in an effort to neaten the bed. After completing that particular task, you set to picking up Dean's abandoned t-shirt and stuffing it into his duffel bag.

 _ **Maybe this'll help them figure out it's me,**_ you thought hopefully.

Promptly after finishing your short cleaning ritual, you paused to look across at the brothers- both of whom were staring at you, agog. Staring back, you let your tail swish from side-to-side.

"Huh," was all Sam said, with a slight bob of his head, his mouth hanging open a fraction as he stared at you. "Well, that sure is something."

"No kiddin'," Dean remarked.

"She must have been owned before if she's learned tricks like that?" Sam pondered. Your tail immediately dropped down, hanging miserably between your hind legs, and your ears drooped.

_**Are you freaking kidding me?** _

"D'you think she can do laundry?" Dean speculated, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. Sighing, you sank to the floor, head resting on your paws as you looked at them reproachfully.

_**I can see this is gonna be a long and difficult process.** _

 

"C'mere, girl," Sam suddenly called you, patting his leg encouragingly, "C'mon."

"Whatcha plannin', Sammy?"

"I'm gonna see what other tricks she got taught, I'm curious," he explained, patting his leg more firmly and calling you over. Disgruntled, you huffed, rose from your resting spot and turned around so your backside faced the brothers. Dean snorted at this rebuff of Sam's attempts to lure you over to him. Lifting your head, you glanced back at them and huffed again, this time accompanying it with a low, throaty grumble of umbrage. Almost as if to emphasise your annoyance, you gave a sharp, abrupt flick of your tail.

"Um, what's just happened here?" Sam queried his brother.

"I think you annoyed her. Wow, little bro, you really have a way with women, don't ya?"

"What did I do wrong?"

"Never ask that question. You oughta know immediately what you did wrong, Sammy, that's how it works-" Dean smirked.

"You're not helping, Dean," Sam interrupted impatiently, making Dean chuckle harder.

"Watch and learn, brother," he said, cocky as usual, before calling over to you, "C'mere, little lady, I wanna cuddle my favourite girl!"

 

Frustrated with them both, you glimpsed back at Dean and huffed loudly at him. His smug grin slid off of his face, his expression one of mingled dismay and surprise. It was now Sam's turn to derive amusement from his brother's failed attempt at beckoning you over to them.

"Yeah, you're a real pro at this," Sam rallied sarcastically, then turned his attention back to you, "I'm sorry if we annoyed you, girl, we really didn't mean to. Do you think we could settle things with a hug?" The younger Winchester propositioned, tilting his head a fraction and flashing you the 'puppy eyes'.

 _ **Ah, Sam, you know how to emotionally manipulate a person, you sasquatch,**_ you relented, springing up onto all fours and padding across to him. Settling back on your hind legs, you stretched up and placed a reassuring paw on his shoulder. With a face-splitting grin, he hunkered down and threw his arms around you. Your tail began swishing side to side automatically as the younger Winchester brother cuddled you.

"Hey! What gives?! How come she went over to you?!" Dean asked, incredulous.

"Because I'm adorable," Sam countered slyly.

 _ **He makes a fair argument, Dean, I don't think you can dispute that,**_ you acknowledged.

"No, you're an overgrown puppy-dog, she just thinks you're some kinda kindred spirit," Dean muttered sourly, standing up to clear away the used crockery on the table.

"I think you're just jealous," Sam retorted, ruffling your fur affectionately.

*

An hour later, Dean was lazing back on the couch, flicking through the few channels on the motel room's TV. Sam appeared absorbed by something on his laptop, scrolling down every so often on the trackpad. You assumed he was immersed in some article or piece of research, so you chose not to disrupt him. Dean, on the other hand, looked surprisingly melancholic; eyes flicking over to his cellphone, which was placed beside him on the couch. As if giving in to some urge, he snatched up the phone and checked it. Forlornly, realising there was no message or voice mail, he set it aside once more. You padded over to him and rested your head on his knees, staring up at him with understanding eyes.

"I'm guessin' you're not annoyed with me anymore?" He asked, scratching you behind your ears. By way of reply, you sprang up onto the couch so you were sat next to him on your haunches, then reached out to paw lightly at his shoulder. A wan smile replaced his sullen countenance. "I'll take that as a good sign."

When you lay across his warm lap, Dean instinctively began stroking your fur. For a moment, you started to feel your eyelids droop from the comfort. While petting you, Dean resumed his flipping through TV channels, stopping when he came across _Mulan_. You felt him hold his breath for a few seconds, probably recalling how you would celebrate ecstatically if you discovered it on a motel TV. He wasn't overly keen on the movie, so you assumed he would just switch over to something else. Instead, he set down the remote and appeared content with watching the endearing film.

Pricking your ears forward and perking up slightly, you began watching in avid fascination, hearing the familiar notes of 'Reflection'. Involuntarily, your tail was sweeping from side to side, pulling a soft chuckle from Dean.

" _ **Look at me....I could never pass as a perfect bride...**_ " Lea Salonga's beautiful voice sang out, immediately catching Sam's attention.

"Dean, are you watching _Mulan_?" He inquired, bemusedly, glancing up from his laptop' screen.

"Uh huh," Dean replied.

"Oh man," Sam scrubbed his hands over his face, shaking his head exasperatedly.

 

"What? What's wrong?" Dean shrugged at his brother.

"I shoulda figured this out a while back. I've never seen you so...apathetic when we're getting some R and R," Sam sighed, shutting his laptop.

"What are ya gettin' at, Sammy?"

"You really miss [Y/N]," he pointed out.

"I thought we already went over that," Dean grumbled. You quickly pretended to be engrossed in the movie, though you were listening attentively to the conversation between the brothers.

"Yeah, but this is something _**more**_ than just missing a friend, isn't it?" Sam said, perceptive as usual. His brother chose not to dignify the question with a response. "You were acting different back when she first told us she was heading home for a week. Like something was bugging you. Now, you're practically morose, Dean."

"Morose? I'm not-"

"You keep checking your phone in case she's sent you a message or left a voice mail. You've obviously re-read her note she left-"

"How'd you-?"

" _ **Hunter**_. I notice things. You and Dad taught me, remember? The note was in a different place to where [Y/N] left it," Sam remarked upon.

"Yeah, okay, fine. I re-read her note. I check my phone. I miss her. This break's not the same without her around, Sammy, I just don't feel right. I don't feel like doing anything without her here," Dean admitted, sounding both irritated and sorrowful.

"You love her, don't you?" Sam finally asked, addressing the 'elephant in the room'. You became very still on Dean's lap.

 

"Sammy, knock it off," Dean muttered bitterly, the query cutting close to something that was obviously a very delicate subject for him.

"I _**really**_ shoulda figured this out way before. You've even stopped trying to pick up women at bars we go to, I noticed it a couple of months back," Sam observed.

"So? I've had a lot goin' on lately," Dean gave his rather lame excuse.

"When did that ever stop you before? You love [Y/N], but you can't accept it?"

" 'Course I accept it, Sammy," Dean suddenly became fierce, "I know I love her and I accept it. Fact is, I wanna call her just so I can hear her voice, maybe her laugh too 'cause she makes me feel like things are normal. I like re-reading her note 'cause...I have to remind myself she's- she's comin' back, Sammy." His flare of anger faded quickly to a subdued despair.

 _ **Oh, Dean,**_ you felt your heart ache in your chest.

"Why don't you tell her this?" Sam questioned his brother, keeping his tone steady and gentle.

"We're hunters, Sammy, we can't get too attached to each other," Dean gave a mirthless chuckle, "If she felt the same way, and we ended up together, she'd be anchored to this life forever. I want [Y/N] to move on from this, get herself that house with a picket fence and a guy who can promise her the apple-pie life. I don't want her to be living out of motel rooms until she dies. That's all I can offer her."

"Dean, she chose this life, she chose to become a hunter and risk her life to protect others. I'm pretty sure she's accepted the consequences of making that choice. Don't deny her some happiness just because you think you know what's best for her. That's not fair on [Y/N] and it sure as hell isn't fair on _**you**_ , either," Sam argued, though he never raised his voice at any point.

"What makes you so sure I can give her any happiness?" Dean rallied, self-deflatingly.

 _ **You make me happy just by being near me, you idiot,**_ you wanted to cry out.

" 'Cause it's so damn obvious that she loves you back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope it wasn't too corny? Just the right amount of fluffy goodness?


End file.
